


A First Step

by Calyah



Series: Jaal Ama Darav x Sierra Ryder [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 14:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10515717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calyah/pseuds/Calyah
Summary: Sierra explores the angaran settlement on Havarl and a tentative friendship forms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is pre-relationship, taking place sometime around when the Tempest crew first arrive on Havarl. Just a little drabble I couldn’t get out of my head. Sierra is a xenobiologist with an interest in linguistics, for some extra context to this scene.

  
Havarl is amazing, better than anything Sierra could have hoped for after Habitat 7. The colors—deep pinks and purples and iridescent pale blues—snare her senses, drawing her eye over every imaginable surface. And the smells—the thick perfumes of blooming flowers and sticky saps—are heady, invigorating her almost as much as they calm. 

The Angara there are no different. They are unique and beautiful, and completely strange. But to them so is she. Or maybe she is just strange. With her hair and odd number of fingers and toes, she has to be nothing less. They certainly stare at her as she wanders through their camp. Some look on with curiosity, but most of them eye her with open suspicion, even revulsion and contempt. She doesn’t blame them. She’s been around aliens her whole life, known every shape and kindness of them. The Angara have only known the Kett. So, she tries to make herself seem friendly and helpful as she passes through, smiling at a merchant and offering kind words to the science teams, but she isn’t quite sure she succeeds. She hopes it will just take more time to earn their trust. 

Climbing a ramp onto another platform, she stops as she spots a small group beside the shuttle bay. They are quietly conversing, and she can’t help but smile as she watches them. Their interactions are so warm, so familiar—a touch on an arm, a playful push against a shoulder—that she momentarily feels transported, like she’s not an entire galaxy away from all she used to call home. She moves closer, not wanting to disturb them, but drawn forward all the same.

One of the men breaks away and steps to the center of the group, his _rofjinn_ swaying gently in the breeze. He says something, but it’s too low for Sierra to hear. She watches, though, fascinated as he wraps a hand around the back of one of his companion’s heads and pulls them close. Slowly, they all do the same, until they are all linked, their postures hunching toward one another and their faces serene. 

Sierra furrows her brow, curious at the meaning behind the action, but then her mouth falls open. 

The first man has begun to sing. 

His voice is soft and deep, a low cadence carried by the wind. She can’t quite make out the words and steps closer, frowning when she realizes they are being spoken in her own tongue. 

“SAM,” she murmurs, “switch off my translator.”

Immediately, there is a shift, and Sierra closes her eyes. The song is their own now, more beautiful than she could have imagined. She listens, rapt, as the others in the group slowly begin to join in. They are singing a round, she realizes, the first man leading and the others taking up the song in turns, over and over until there is almost no beginning and no end. Their guttural hard sounds and deep vowels roll effortlessly between them, and there is something there, something else wrapped lovingly around each phrase. 

The leader of the song sings louder, urging his companions on, and they comply. Their voices lift higher, weaving notes and stretching them into a melody that seems to embrace the very air. Sierra listens, completely lost in the beauty of their song. 

A hand touches her shoulder, and she startles. Opening her eyes, she sees Jaal—her newest companion and an angara. He is looking at her curiously, quiet and waiting, and she belatedly realizes he must have spoken.

“SAM,” she says quickly, silently asking him to turn her translator back on. “Sorry, Jaal, did you say something?” She grimaces at being caught so unaware. 

His lips twitch. “I asked if you were ready to go.” He glances between her and the group, before leaning forward, as if propelled by a curiosity he can’t contain. “What were you doing?”

“Um.” Sierra looks down, slightly embarrassed, then raises her hand toward the group by the shuttle. Their singing is slowly coming to an end. “I was listening,” she says with a slight smile. Jaal’s eyes follow her gaze. “Their song was really beautiful.” Her smiles falters, and she looks back at him nervously. “I didn’t break any rules, did I? It’s not…forbidden for me to hear or anything, is it?”

Jaal’s eyes widen. “Forbidden? No.” His tone is light and amused. “Angaran songs are meant to be shared.” 

Sierra relaxes, relieved. “Will you tell me what it was about?” she asks. “That song.”

He tilts his head. “Were your translators not working when they sang?”

Lifting a hand, she gestures to her ears where the implants reside. “I turned them off.” She looks back to the group that is now dispersing and a slight disappointment tugs at her. She wishes she could hear them sing again. “I wanted to hear your language. Hear the song how it’s meant to be heard. There’s always something that gets lost in the translation.”

There is a long pause, and she turns back to Jaal. He is watching her intently, like she’s a puzzle he doesn’t quite know how to figure out. But perhaps that’s how she looks at him too. 

Clearing his throat, he shifts his eyes away from her and to the angara and their shuttles. “That was an _isharay_ , a song for saying goodbye and good luck,” he finally says. “They are Resistence, going to different planets, different facilities to train. They sing to remember and…to feel joy.”

“Yes,” she murmurs, furrowing her brow as understanding clicks into place. “That’s exactly what it felt like.”

Jaal looks at her, surprised. “Did it?” He leans back to study her more fully.

Sierra nods. “I could only hear a little bit, but…” she closes her eyes again, grasping at her memory. “Yes, definitely. It felt like joy.” Her eyes open, and she beams at him. “Will you teach me?”

“You wish me to teach you that song?” He asks, a small smile along his lips, clearly intrigued.

“No.” She chuckles. “Well, maybe, but I meant some of your language. _Shelesh_.” She tucks a loose hair behind her ear and steps closer. “I’d love to know more. About you. About your culture. Anything you’re willing to share.” 

He stares at her again, his strangeness and startling eyes beautiful under the dark light, and she suddenly becomes aware of just how close she’s gotten to him in her enthusiasm. 

“I mean when we have time, of course,” she says quickly and takes a step back, her heart beginning to beat a little bit faster. “And only what you’d be willing to share. I know the Kett have made you hesitant to trust outsiders.”

He raises his hand and clasps it lightly around her shoulder, halting her retreat. “I like that.” He looks at her a moment, but then turns his gaze upward, as if contemplating the possibilities in the stars. “Yes. Perhaps I will start something. A...word of the day.” He looks down at her again and nods. “For the crew.”

“That’s a great idea,” she says, noticing how his face seems to light up at her encouragement. “You could use the info-board in the crew quarters.”

He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Will you teach me some of your words, your…phrases in exchange?” His lips tick upward. “And maybe some of your songs?”

“Of course,” she answers eagerly, delighted that he would consider learning from her as well. “Jaal, I want us to be friends.”

An unreadable expression crosses his features, and his eyes shift. “Good,” he says quietly. With a heavy inhale, he drops his hand “Thank you, Ryder. Are you ready to go?”

Her eyes lingers on him, a curious attraction staying her gaze, but her mind turns quickly, focusing her thoughts toward the important mission ahead.

“Ready as ever,” she says, forcing herself to look back to where the Tempest is waiting, and trying not to notice the rapid beat of her heart when she feels his eyes linger on her too. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I will probably make this a series of oneshots, loosely connected, because these two are seriously being persistent with my muse right now.


End file.
